


Soulless to Remember

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Big Brother Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guilty Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Spoilers, brotherly schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1-shot. Spoilers! Unable to get a hold of Sam after their last call, Dean tracks his brother down only to find him not only in danger for his life but something else.. Once back at the bunker, Sam wakes up with a nightmare that reminds Dean that their recent problems isn’t the only issue since Sam still has guilt for another time that they have to deal with. *Hurt/confused/guilty!Sam & Angry/concerned/Big brother!Dean* SPOILERS for 09x17 Mother’s Helper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soulless to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Tags/Spoilers: This is a sort of AU-sih tag to 09x17 Mother’s Helper. I’ll say AU-ish since it’s also a small fix to a tiny little thing that I won’t mention here as it’s a spoiler and yes, there are spoilers so beware.
> 
> Warnings: Language, spoilers.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything but this is written for the enjoyment of others.
> 
> Author Note: Yes, it’s been awhile since I wrote a tag to an episode as I've been distracted writing J2 stuff and while this is sort of AU-ish as I felt the need to fix one teensy little thing I tossed in the actual tag I planned to write for the episode in the form of Sam’s nightmare. The hurt Sam part comes from a suggestion from the plot bunny feeder Jenjoremy. Read, enjoy, review and look me up on Facebook under morgana07. Thanks!

**Soulless to Remember**

“No…ugh! No. Don’t! Stop…Dean…Dean…DEAN!!”

The ragged hoarse scream that tore from inside the bunker where the bedrooms were brought Dean Winchester’s head up from where he’d laid it over his arm on the table filled with files and papers.

“Huh?” it took a couple seconds to remember where the hell he was and what was happening since most of his thoughts were locked on memories of the rush of power from touching the First Blade, killing Magnus and his present obsession of finding Abbadon.

The next scream was even worse and then it clicked. “Sam.”

Dean was out of the chair without realizing he’d tipped it over in his haste to move and was running out of the library, through the halls of the Men of Letters bunker to the bedroom that he’d left to sleep through the pain pills he’d doused him with…three hours earlier and once again Dean hated the distance between him and his little brother.

Any other time he never would have left Sam alone for that long and especially not after finding him the way he had after a guilty conscious and a sudden burst of big brother clarity had sent him tracking Sam down in the small Illinois town that Dean had allowed, actually sent Sam into on his own with no damn backup.

No backup on a case that had turned from possible simple to bad and nasty in the beat of one missed call which caused the elder Winchester to walk in on a scene that he didn’t think he’d forget anytime soon.

** Flashback, 24 hours earlier: **

_“Sonuvbitch!”_

Throwing his phone onto the seat of the spare car he’d only just gotten street legal that they’d found in the garage of the bunker Dean was debating on who to kill first: himself for letting Sam go on a hunt solo, Crowley for distracting him even more than he had been or whatever the hell monster his little brother had actually come across in the little Illinois town.

Well it was a given that he’d be killing the monster he was just going to toss a coin on the other choice but firstly all Dean wanted was to find his brother.

He’d been so locked on his own issues that he not only sent Sam off without backup, which was the first rule of true hunting that had been drilled into his head by Jim Murphy and Bobby Singer. But then when his little brother since for that moment in time he was ignoring the whole partners or brothers thing, when Sam asked him to join him he’d basically refused.

Dean lied to Sam about researching and had been drinking and playing pool. He was playing pool and saving goddamn Crowley’s ass while something had possibly hurt his brother.

Slamming the old car into the parking lot of the local police station which he hoped might have been Sam’s last location, Dean was getting out of the car and fumbling for his fake ID when he realized he had no clue what the hell name Sam was going under this hunt.

“Damn it!” he kicked the door in restless energy when a cough from over his shoulder had him whirling and barely, just damn barely, resisting the urge to pull his blade when he turned to see an older woman standing there eyeing him and then the old car that was probably as old as she was…not that he said that outloud. “Yeah?”

“Well, the other one was more polite,” she mused as if deciding if this was another man like she’d been speaking too because she might be old and might be a former nun but she was also fairly certain real FBI wouldn’t be driving such old cars. “Are you with him?”

Dean was usually too much of a hunter to give anything away, especially since he didn’t know the players involved or who the bad guy was. He’d nearly been killed too many times by the weak, frail or elderly to let his guard down now.

However he was also an older brother with a MIA little brother so he’d blame that on why he actually did reply to the woman. “Tall guy, moose size, wearing a bad suit, long hair with these really big soulful puppy dog eyes?” he countered in his best description of his brother, choosing to leave out the extra ‘and a huge pain in my ass at times’ line.

“Said he was FBI but I knew when he didn’t laugh at me for mentioning the demons that he was one of those Men of Letters like Henry and Josie had been all those years ago,” she nodded, grabbing a hold of Dean’s arm in what he found was actually a pretty strong grip.

“Wait…Henry?” Dean blinked, recognizing their grandfather’s name as well as the woman whose body was still hosting the very Knight of Hell he was seeking to kill. “Demons?” he felt like growling, groaning, hitting himself in the damn head and then his worry for Sam hiked several more notches. “Okay, yes. I’m with him. I need to find him since he’s not answering his phone and…did you say demons?”

Giving a short nod the woman didn’t waste any time since she’d been worried about the boy when he didn’t come back right away as well. “I told Sam that all these weird occurrences were happening again just like they did years ago when I was still a young nun serving at the church outside of town. I told him how Henry and Josie came and how this thing called Abbadon possessed poor Josie instead of Henry. He said he was calling his partner but if he didn’t answer he’d look around himself to see what was happening.”

“Goddamn it, Sam,” Dean growled then yelped when he was slapped in the back of the head. “Hey?”

“I might have stopped being a nun because I failed my order and I let God and Henry down back then but you don’t have to take His name in vain, young man,” she chided even as she was shoving Dean back into his car. “Now, if you’re here for Sam you’d best get going and find him because if whatever happened back then is whatever is causing these people now to act so crazy then I’d hate to see that happen to a sweet poor like Sam.”

The last time Sam had talked to him he’d brought up people acting soulless, acting like he had when he’d been soulless and no, Dean did not want to ever run the risk of his brother being without a soul again. He’d gone down that road one time before and would rather not have a repeat of it.

“You wait here or go back to your place…ma’am,” the hunter pasted on a fake smile that he hoped looked unworried. “I’m sure Sam’s just out of cell range and…I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Well, at least you lie better than he did if you’re not as polite,” she sighed and then stepped back to let him drive off after giving him the name and directions as she had to Sam, hoping she wasn’t sending another young boy into danger.

Demons. Dean banged his hand on the steering wheel while swearing if Crowley had any indication Sam might be in danger he would gank the bastard the next time he had the blade in his hand.

Screwing with Dean, mocking him or his dedication to killing the red headed bitch responsible for a lot of the Winchester’s lives was one thing. Knowing that Sam might be in danger and now mentioning it? No, that was still the fastest way to get Dean to kill.

He saw the Impala parked outside the run down rectory and immediately didn’t like the ice cold feeling in the pit of his stomach or how his arm burned. He really hated this damn mark any way but he hated it more when it burned but this burn was a lot different than how it was when he held the blade it was connected to.

Dean grabbed some Holy water and made sure his gun and blade were within reach even though he knew both of the weapons were useless. Only one weapon, well one that the Winchesters currently had, could kill a demon and Sam was in possession of it.

So if Dean came across a demon he’d have to hope Holy water and a fast exorcism worked until he got to Sam and the knife.

Entering the building which looked like it hadn’t seen life in several years, the hunter caught sight that Sam had been there and smirked as he followed the large footprints in the dust to the door to the basement. He was working on being silent when suddenly the need to be silent didn’t seem all that important.

The moment Dean heard the sounds of a fight occurring in the basement, could hear the sound of a body, his brother if he still knew the sound of Sam’s big frame being tossed, crashing through something and then picked up some muffled words from a voice so not Sam’s.

Slipping down the steps to peer into another room Dean felt his blood that had been running hot since touching the blade drop to pure ice.

The small room in the basement had old furniture and wood broken and tossed all around but what he was paying attention to was the bloody demon killing blade laying on the floor, Sam’s cracked cell phone on the floor next to where his blood covered, bruised and battered little brother was hanging in the grasp of an old…nun.

Dean made a mental note to add possessed nun’s to the list of things he never thought they’d ever have to face but then recalled this wouldn’t be the first damn time a demon had possessed someone thought to be Holy. He tried to get a better look at Sam when it suddenly hit him what the nun was saying and knew his time was running out.

“You put up a pretty good fight for a so-called Man of Letters, pretty boy,” Sister Agnus was saying as she chuckled at the still weak attempts to fight the boy was putting up.

He’d came very close to exorcising her with that phone trick but he’d been tossed around plenty so once she broke the phone she’d grabbed him to slam him through a dividing wall before going back to choking him while teasing him with her blade.

“I think you’re probably a poor little hunter who stumbled into something you can’t handle,” she tightened her fingers to hear him gasp for air, watching his eyes start to roll back and his weak attempts to claw at her weakened further. “I’m going to enjoy ripping the soul right out of you and sending you out to see what damage you can cause without all that pesky morality messing things up.”

“Oh, trust me, bitch. Sammy’s not the kind you want to send anywhere without his soul,” Dean thought he did a really good job making his voice low and gravelly even as his heart was pounding somewhere in his throat as how bad Sam looked. “I should know. Been there, done that and I kinda swore after Death put his soul back inside him that he’d keep it.”

Whirling easily, the nun hurled Sam away to toss him into a pile of trash against the wall while turning to stare at the new intruder when she screamed as she got a face full of Holy water that sent her stumbling back. “No!”

It wasn’t much and wouldn’t last long but Dean used the time to his advantage when he threw himself to the hard cement floor to roll, grab the knife and plunge it into the possessed nun’s belly even as she was snarling at him with black eyes flashing in rage at losing her prey.

“Wanting the Queen Bitch dead is one thing. Dealing with a blood junkie asshole wanting to be King of Hell again is another thing. But demons trying to steal my little brother’s soul after beating the crap outta him? No way in hell does that happen while I still have breath in my body,” Dean growled, pure rage and with the same hate he felt whenever anything touched his brother to hurt him. “Go back to hell and tell Abbadon that Dean Winchester is coming for her heart and if you hurt Sammy she’ll get my boot up her ass before I gut her!”

There was Dean Winchester hunter rage in which he killed whatever supernatural monster they were hunting. There was Dean Winchester rage that was aimed at humans or other assholes stupid enough to bruise, taunt, or hurt Sam on a hunt or in a bar brawl. Then there was the very rarely seen much less survivable Dean Winchester full on rage that came out whenever his baby brother bled enough to pass out. That was the rage that very few who had seen it actually ever lived to tell the tale.

The demon in possession of the nun was added to the list of those who’d seen that side but would be telling anyone but the dead about it.

Dean’s anger was heightened because of his reaction to the mark on his arm but like when Sam’s voice called to him in Magnus’s house, pleading with him to drop the blade the moment he heard a pained groan, a gasp, a choking breath and then a weak voice Dean was back in the present and dropping to his knees beside where Sam laid on the ground. “Sam? Sammy?” he slipped the blade into his jacket for the moment while he caught his brother’s reaching hands to hold them still even as he used his free hand to urge the younger man to stay still while he tried to eyeball his injuries. “Shit,” he breathed, hating himself and his damn stubborn refusal to come when he was called.

Sam’s face was pale from blood lost from the reopened cut on his neck but also from a jagged cut down his side that was bad enough that his shirt was soaked with it.

Dean could see the fingershaped bruises on Sam’s neck from the demon nun’s choke hold and he felt a lump on the back of Sam’s head probably from where he’d been tossed around.

“Hey, stay still there, Sam. I’m here. It’s Dean,” he wasn’t sure if his brother was with it enough to understand him as Sam still seemed to try to fight so while his first reaction was to pull Sam into his arms to hold him like he would have once Dean placed his hand flat over the center of Sam’s chest. “Sammy.”

The firmer use of his nickname, the name that Sam still only allowed Dean to use, did finally work through the glassy eyed fog of shock, pain and head injury to cause Sam to go still and listen.

It took another few moments before his brother’s voice talking to him, soothing him and really muttering nonsense got through to him so he stopped fighting to get free and slumped back, crying out as pain shot through his side.

“…D…Dean?” he gasped, forcing his eyes to try to clear to see five of Dean but he guessed one of them would be solid. He wanted to reach out, he wanted to cling for a moment until he regained some strength but he feared being pushed away so he merely tried to wave a hand to the jars on the shelf. “Free…”

Working to see if Sam could wait for treatment or if he’d have to do a fast triage right there in the dusty filthy basement Dean ducked a fluttering hand before it poked out an eye to see where Sam was pointing to. “What? What’s free? Sam…oh shit.”

Even as Sam was trying to make his mouth work around the words Dean knew what the glowing little fluttering things in the jars were. He still recalled what Sam’s soul had looked like before Death restored it so he knew with a sick feeling what was being kept but not why.

“The people who have been going crazy…those are their souls,” Dean caught the weak nod but paused before going to the shelf to see what Sam was trying to say. “What? Sam, you’re hurt and can’t talk right now so whatever it is can wait until…”

“Souls…army…harvesting…” Sam mumbled, knowing he was going to black out but needed to try to pass this on so his brother would know his obsession to destroy Abbadon had become more important. “Factories…”

Staring for a long moment until Dean pieced it together, he felt Sam’s fingers grip his hand tightly a second before he passed out and knew Sam was telling him that Abbadon was harvesting souls and he feared he might no way.

Back when both Heaven and Hell were trying to use the power of souls to run their armies Dean had been told the power that souls possessed and how important they were. Death himself had told him that he had yet to understand the true power involved if one could harness the power of multiple souls.

He had hoped after the whole Purgatory mess that he was done dealing with nutjobs stealing souls but it looked like he was again going to be trying to keep someone from creating an Army by using souls to power it.

“Right after I free these and then get Sam the hell outta here,” he muttered darkly, trying to forget how close he’d come to once again facing a side of Sam that he never wanted to see again.

** Present: **

After freeing the few souls still caught in the jars and getting Sam out of the basement and to the Impala, Dean had taken him to the closest hospital to get stitched up and cleaned up while using the old car accident line.

He regretted losing the old time car but it worked to explain his brother’s injuries. While Sam was coming out of the initial drugs used at the hospital Dean had called Julia, the lady he’d met when first arriving, to tell her that Sam was safe and the threat was gone.

She’d gone on to tell him the rest and it chilled him to think how close the damn Knight of Hell had come to claiming their grandfather and hadn’t. So maybe he owed the body of the woman a quick death if for no other reason than that.

That had been 24 hours earlier and Dean had thought Sam would sleep through the night given the shock he was still in and the wounds he still had but something had woken the kid up and whatever it was didn’t sound good.

Dean had just gotten close to Sam’s door when he suddenly grunted when he was hit full on with Sam’s full weight as his younger brother half ran, half stumbled out of his room with Dean’s name on his lips and his eyes huge and dark with shock and terror.

“Dean!” he shouted but jerked back at the feel of strong hands trying to grab him. “No! Don’t touch! Gotta find…gotta stop…Dean!”

‘What the hell?’ Dean was at a loss but saw that Sam was still mostly asleep and fighting on instincts and terror as he tried to bolt down the hall only to fall. “Sam!” he snapped, using the deep tone of voice he only used with Sam when he needed to get through to him and glad to see it had some small effect when his brother stopped. “Hey, settle down before you rip any stitches because I’m not sober enough to stitch you up again tonight.”

Sam was shaking his head…no, actually as Dean saw now Sam was shaking all over and could only watch as his brother slid down the wall to try to curl into a ball on the floor while mumbling under his breath things that didn’t immediately make sense to the older man. Until he began to catch words uttered between gasping sobs.

“Dean…no. Didn’t mean to do it. Didn’t wanna hurt you. Didn’t mean for the…it…vampire…Noooo!”

A cold numbness hit Dean as he realized what this was. At first he’d thought maybe Sam’s drugged and hurt brain was seeing the mess with Magnus again since he knew Sam had woken up a few times in fear of whatever the blade was doing to him even if his brother hadn’t brought it up out of fear of starting a fight.

Dean knew he was being a hard assed cold bastard again and shutting Sam out. He knew they still weren’t on the good side of things with everything that had happened with Gadreel and Metatron but he knew in some way that Sam was trying to make it right in little ways that right then Dean’s brain wouldn’t let him accept.

But this…this wasn’t about the mark or the effects on Dean. No, with those few words Dean knew with heartbreaking certainty that Sam was having a nightmare…about the time when he was soulless, about the night he allowed Dean to be turned into a vampire.

That had been the one thing that Sam had never allowed himself to forget or forgive himself for even after Dean had told him multiple times to let it go. Out of all the cold, cruel, emotionally stupid things Robo-Sam had done letting Dean be turned would hunt Sam forever and if Dean were honest it still haunted him too.

Pushing to his knees to move closer to where Sam was sitting he took several deep breaths to try to settle his suddenly pounding heart.

The need to taste the power of the blade was still on the surface, skimming along Dean’s nerves much like the need to whiskey once had. A side of him wanted to find Abbadon, call Crowley or just call the damn demon and ask to touch it again but Dean knew that was what Crowley was expecting.

Dean knew the demon was trying to lead him to destruction, that he wanted him to break like a junkie but Dean was still a Winchester…he was still himself enough to fight that urge and focus on what was suddenly important to him.

Sam was sobbing, fingers pulling restlessly at his long dark hair until finally Dean moved without thinking to grab his brother and pull Sam into his arms to hold him against his chest while wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“No! Let go!” Sam tensed to fight, tensed to flee when suddenly the deep, whiskey and gravel voice that came when Dean was tired and emotional got through to his brain and he slowed his attempts to listen.

“Shhh, hey, Sam…Sammy. Slow down, little brother. I’m here with you, I’ve got-cha now,” Dean was speaking over the sounds of muffled breathing and harsh sobs, letting the fingers of one hand card gently back through Sam’s hair like he hand when his brother was younger and scared after a bad dream or a fight with their Dad. “You’re okay, Sammy. You’re not soulless again. It was just a dream.”

Dean feared that Sam might have some sort of bad dream something since no matter how big his brother got Sam was still prone to the nightmares that had chased him as a child. He just hadn’t thought it would be from that time or those memories that would have woken him out of a pain pill induced sleep; confused and scared of hurting Dean again.

“It’s just a nightmare, Sammy. Just memories that can’t hurt you, can’t hurt me so just settle back and breathe with me,” he kept talking while moving his fingers through Sam’s hair until after several tense moments he felt the first shudder work through his brother and then Sam’s shoulders started to relax while they crept around Dean’s waist as if wanting to hold on but afraid to. “I’m right here with you, little brother. I’ve got you. I came for you and I’m so damn sorry I didn’t listen to you and come when you asked me to.”

They stayed like this for what seemed like hours even though by Dean’s watch he knew it was only about 90 minutes until he felt Sam’s body go limp for the time it took his mind to wake up fully, access where he was, what was happening and then he felt the wary tension begin to return.

“Don’t tense, Sam,” he spoke calmly but where a few weeks ago he might have instantly released Sam and made some awkward comment or gesture he held on, tucking Sam’s head under his chin and trying to pretend he hadn’t come so damn close to losing his brother again or that they weren’t sitting in the hallway just feet from two perfectly good bedrooms with access to warm blankets to keep Sam from slipping back into shock.

“D…De’n?” Sam’s voice was soft, shaky and slightly slurred which told Dean his brother was still in shock and tired. “You…am I…me?”

Understanding with little effort what that meant Dean chuckled even as he was trying to get them to their feet and into Sam’s room without losing contact because he knew if he let Sam loose now his brother would close off out of fear of Dean’s current attitude.

“Yeah, you’re you; soul intact but more than a little bruised and battered,” he got Sam to get back into bed, pulled the blankets up around him but sat down to lean against the headboard. “When you didn’t answer my calls I followed you, talked to Julia, got to that place and added killing a possessed nun to our list of weird things we’ve killed. She didn’t take your soul and I freed the ones there.”

Flashes of want had happened caused Sam to shudder but before he could curl up on the bed he felt himself being tugged closer and went with the more familiar feeling of his older brother letting him use his shoulder for a pillow even if just for a moment.

Sam thought he’d heard Dean’s voice; the pissed off voice he heard whenever he’d been hurt and Dean went into manic hyper protective big brother mode. A voice he hadn’t heard since he said the things he had to hurt his brother.

“I…I didn’t think you’d come,” he whispered, feeling the dull aches and pain and knew he wouldn’t be moving too much for the next day or so. “I tried to exorcise her but…”

“Yeah, she was a fast old bat I’ll give her that,” Dean smirked, settling his hand on the back of Sam’s neck like he used to and surprised when his brother relaxed into the familiar comforting touch. “I’ve been an ass and I made the mistake of letting you hunt solo when I knew not to so this, your wounds, is on me but…Sammy, you need to let the whole guilt trip thing over the vampire mess go, dude,” he looked down to see he was getting a mix of puppy eyes and one of Sam’s lesser bitch faces aimed at him. “It wasn’t you.”

“Just like what those people did wasn’t them but if they remember, and they will because they don’t have a wall shielding them, they’ll feel as guilty as I always will for allowing that bastard to turn you while I stood there and did nothing,” Sam still saw the memories of Dean fighting against the vampire while he’d done nothing but smirk. It was a memory that Sam would hate until he was finally dead. “If I had lost it again…” he suddenly grasped his brother’s wrist in a bone breaking hold. “Dean…promise me.”

Wincing as he tried to free his wrist, Dean was wary. “Promise you what?” he asked but suspected he knew what Sam would say next and wasn’t disappointed.

“Promise me if I ever lose it, if anything ever happens to me and I lose my soul again that you won’t screw around this time. Promise me that you’ll kill me flat out or let Cas or hell, even Crowley kill me,” his eyes were still glassy but not as huge as he stared up into his brother’s face. “I…I can’t live like that again, Dean. I can’t and I won’t run the risk of Abbadon ever…please…”

“Hey, stop it,” Dean didn’t like where this was going and he sure as hell didn’t like the thought of killing Sam for any reason. “She’s not getting your soul, you’re not losing your soul again because quite frankly I don’t think Robo-You would like to see me again and…dude, no way in Hell would I let Crowley near you to kill you,” he snorted at the thought since he’d gank the asshole within a second at even the chance of that happening. “You had a nightmare, Sammy. You lost a lot of blood and this brought back a memory you didn’t need.”

Dean caught Sam’s face before it could look away, holding those eyes with his own to make his point. “We will find Abbadon. She will not take anyone else’s soul and I promise that the minute I kill her, Crowley’s the next one who falls under that blade,” he offered a small cocky smile to reassure the fear and worry he still saw in Sam’s eyes. “I’ll be alright and so will you.”

Sam had his doubts if it would be that simple but right then he didn’t want to dwell on it more. He was still shaken by the too real memory of his time soulless and what he’d nearly done to his brother, what he almost did to Bobby and everything else that he was just willing to give into the comfort of Dean being with him like he would be before.

They both tried to say they were fine alone, they both stubbornly wouldn’t be the first to give in but when one of them was in danger or in this case scared out of his mind they were there for one another.

It might not be perfect or even fully relaxed but right then Sam would take it because he feared the thought of losing his brother to the blade’s influence, he feared losing himself if it was possible for a soul to be harvested outside of Hell and he feared what either Crowley or Abbadon would do with that power.

“We’re going to deal with both of those hell-bound douches and then see about getting a pound of flesh from a couple heaven-sent ones too,” Dean was speaking, his touch welcome as it squeezed Sam’s neck like his brother always had when seeking to offer comfort without words and slowly Sam let himself give into the comfort and the sleep that was calling him.

“Thanks for coming for me, Dean,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as he realized Dean was planning to stay for a while. “I…” the words cut off because while it was always hard to say them to his brother normally right now all the stress between them made it harder.

“Yeah, me too, Sasquatch,” Dean smirked but gave a gentle squeeze to let his brother know he understood what he meant and that he still felt the same even if the words weren’t ready to be said yet again. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay with you in case any monsters are under the bed.”

Sam’s smile was sleepy but dry as he shifted more to lean his head over to his brother’s shoulder and felt sleep come. “Shut up…jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean whispered the word but he didn’t miss the flicker of emotion on Sam’s face or the odd feeling of relief that passed through his own chest as he said the old insult that they hadn’t used in several years.

Dean wasn’t certain how this would play out with the blade or the mark but he would keep Sam safe no matter what he had to do. He would also make damn certain that red haired bitch kept her paws off his brother’s soul since he was fairly certain he’d already given part of his by accepting the mark.

“G’night, Sammy,” he murmured and let sleep come to his own wandering mind for the first time in days but feared he’d need it for whatever was to come.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading!


End file.
